Career Game
by Xeraphano
Summary: A Multi-First Person Story via the view points of the Careers of the 74th Hunger Games, and the events that lead up to the eventual downfall of all of them. Reviews are appreciated and I hope you enjoy!
1. Prologue - Cato

She ripped his throat out; and became victor. That was probably one of the more memorable victories in District Two's history. I knew this because I've paid close attention to the games since I was five, and from there on, I admired every bit of it. Maybe because they've glorified everything; the blood, the gore, the shining victor at the end of it all, when in reality they're betting kids against each other to fight til death. Despite knowing this fact, everyone in my district glorified those who were reaped or who volunteered to go, considering them heroes or VIPs; they were practically gods when they came home alive.

Added to the list of gods was Enobaria, a woman who was already glorified for her determination and courageousness to win the games. Out of all of the games, the 62nd Hunger Games was Clo's favorite, and I saw it in her eyes as we re-watched some of our favorite Games a few days after the 68th Games were finished. It was impressive, to say the least; a District Two female was coming back home. A girl at the age of 15 won by manipulation; getting non-career districts to do what she wanted before stabbing them in the back literally with a spear. I can't wait to see the victor again; I've been watching the whole games just to see her bring pride and glory to the district.

"So your sister is coming back home, right?" Clo asked, staring intently into the screen under her quilt as the 48th Hunger Games re-ran on the television, notably my favorite Game out of all of them.

"As it seems." I mumbled back, glancing over to her. "She did win the games after all."

"She's basically a star now." She replied. "Everyone would bid to her beck and call, and soon, next year, her little brother will have a chance to participate in the games. Isn't that swell?"

I took a deep breath, watching as Brutus hacked off an opponents head. "It's kinda scary to think about it." I shifted in my seat slightly, looking over to Clove before I stared at the screen again. "I'll be exactly twelve when I get to participate in my first reaping."

"Right... Your birthday's always on the day of Reaping."

"Thus why we had a huge celebration when my sister was reaped."

She gave me a blank look, before reaching over the remote of the TV and changing the channel, the one that Caesar was always on as he talked to my sister about her victory. "Guess we'll have an even bigger celebration for your first Reaping then."

I focused on my sister on screen, and studied how professional and proud she acted in front of the audience. It was that exact same behavior that won her the games and I had to keep note of it. When she came home, she'll set up an expectation for my family to reach. Knowing my brother and how agile he was, he was going to win a Game as well, which all but left me; little, baby Cato to prove that he's just as good as his siblings. I am as good as my siblings, I would prove it. It wasn't a goal, it was a promise. "I guess so, Clove."


	2. Chapter 1: Clove

Being daughter of an academy trainer meant four things; I was veratious, vicious, and vindictive, and all because I was a Varius, a long generation of trainers within the District Two's main academy. I just happened to be the first girl after a long while, and despite the majority of my family line is male excluding my mother and grandmother with years of experience under their belts, they still couldn't match my skill. They've been training me for years since day one for the Hunger Games waiting patiently for the day that I happened to be one of those to volunteer. Filling my head with mindless propaganda about I would be doing my family line a favor; proving to Panem that Varius was the line of victory. To be honest; I think it's all a waste. Why prove something that you've already established years before? But, it wasn't my place to mention my opinion, for the sake of the district, of course.

I wake up on a mild sunny morning with the sunlight shining over my bed and a chorus of noise ringing from the lower level of the house Sighing heavily, I rise out of bed with my long hair covering part of my face as I glance over the Calendar. Red marks crossed out the slow passing days until a particular date caught my stare. Tomorrow was the day of reaping, and Cato's birthday. It's not like I'd forget, but knowing him, he's probably facing a bit of distress from his family, reminding him about his Sister's victory. The thought of it all was annoying to think about, because I'll be the one dealing with the flack of it all.

I walk over to the calendar, cross out today's date and starts preparing for my day. Throwing my black hair into a pony tail, putting on my comfiest training outfit and slipping on my black boots and went down the stairs. My mother and father were shuffling around the house, preparing for another day of District Two activities. My father collecting his favorite set of knives and spears together for the last day of training and my mother getting ready to work with other stonemasons. It takes them a moment to realize that I was down there with them, but even then they weren't even trying to make an effort to realize I was here.

"Oh, Morning, Clove," I hear my father say as he walks by to grab another set of throwing knives. Did he really have to leave all of his weaponry around the house? "It's the last day before reaping, aren't you excited?"

"Oh, completely." I say with a tight-lip smile, my mother walking over and handing me my favorite set of throwing knives.

"Have a nice day, and be good, will you?" My mother comments, before directing her attention to my father, giving him a quick kiss on his cheek and then going away. I merely stare blankly.

"I'm heading to the academy, Clove, are you coming with or not?" My father says strictly, acting like a teacher more than a parental figure. Figured. I shake my head no.

"I'm going to walk with Cato this morning." I reply, my tone and my face remaining even. "Tomorrow is –"

"The Reaping, right, right..." My father states, standing in front of me with all of his weaponry packed on his back as he gives me a condescending stare. "You better not be fraternizing with that boy in all the wrong ways –"

"I am in no way romantically involved with Cato, father." I reassure, though thoroughly annoyed. It wasn't the first time someone has mistaken my friendship and alliance with Cato for something more than the latter, which has caused nothing except disdain on both of our parts. When you're daughter of a trainer and friends with the brother of a previous Games winner and both are top of the class at the Academy, gossip should be expected. "I'm just going to walk with him to the Academy."

"Right, because you may be my child but I won't tolerate any form of tardiness nor rebellion do you hear me?" He says with a hiss, as I merely nod my head, glancing around and watching as my mother stare at the both of us. I grip my set of knives case in my hand and continue on my way, feeling my dad sharp, dark eyes stare me down as I left the house. The moment I make my way outside, I take a sharp breath of air, greeted by the stench of the quarry and stone. It was the second time this week he had stated that phrase and probably the 20th time he had said that this year so far. It was all true; he was my teacher, not my father. We just happen to share the same name, and I were to carry on that name.

I take my time walking through town and watching other stonemason and concrete finishers walk me by with the occasional Peacekeeper glaring me down from the shadows of buildings. If everything goes according to plan, I would be one of them; serving the Capitol and my District with pride. As much as I rather a different fate, I can't stop fate. A shame. Oh well, at least I could aim to be Head Peacekeeper once I am enrolled when I turn 18. Like my lineage states; we're cold, viscous and prideful. As much as I dislike the name being connected to how I am, I will admit that I am what others wish the could be. And the sheer thought of it makes me grin slightly.

I make it to the end of town to be greeted by a familiar sight; a group of kids I knew from the Academy hanging around waiting for someone to annoy early in the morning. It had to be my luck that I was their first target for my small size, since I was shortest in the class. The only problem with their logic is they should know I was top in the class back in the academy, next to Cato. They mean nothing to me; I didn't even recall their names, that was how insignificant they were, but I remember their sneeringly annoying voices.

"Hey, look, it's the small dog Clooooooooooooooooover," They sneer in harmony, making barking sounds as they hound over me.

"My name is Clove, you do not need to add the 'r' at the end of my name." I did not grace them with a look until one of them got into my way, trying to look down at me.

"Clove, Clover, there's no real difference. You're the same little biddy girl who thinks she's all tough." the black-haired male in front of me spoke in a mocking tone, grinning right at me while I gave him a serious look, my knife pack griped tightly in my hands. "What? Do we have a problem, Clover? Does the little bitch have a bit of bite in her?" He says, before he was violently pulled back by a strong force, giving me a chance to glance over at his other two friends and backhanding one of them. Hard enough to send him to the ground. The last guy ran away while I turn around again to see the black-haired guy dangling mid-air by the collar in Cato's grip.

"Do we have a problem here?" Cato growls, glaring daggers at the smaller man. The black-haired man merely shakes his head no. "Then why the hell do you feel the need to stick your nose in Clove's business?" The guy was at a lost for words, a look of fear spreading across his face as Cato's killer intent grows. I glance around to see a Peacekeeper staring right at us.

"Cato, put him down." I command, him taking a quick glance at me, before putting the black-haired guy down, and watching him scurry off. A huge, satisfied grin appears on Cato's face.

"You better watch yourself, punk." He yells loudly, more eyes peering at the two of us as he spews more threatening phases. I take it upon myself to grab him by the arm and to drags him off, hoping the Peacekeepers did not come for us.

"Are you insane?!" I say the loudest I can without drawing more attention to the two of us. "Listen, we go to school with those guys, take care of them there. Not out here where the peacekeepers can arrest you." I let go of his arm, while he gives me a small grin, before glaring at the direction our classmates ran off to.

"They're probably pissing in their pants, expecting me to get them back." He growls, cracking his knuckles. "Idiots. They'd know twice than to mess with you again."

"I can handle myself." I say.

"I don't doubt that." He says in a matter of fact tone. "But we're allies, we have to look out for one each other."

"I know."


	3. Chapter 2: Glimmer

"Archers approach the line!"

Steady Goes it, keep focus.

"Clear down range!"

You're in my way.

"Archers may nock and fire seven arrows for score on my mark." The trainer raises her arm, staring at the line of us with beady eyes. I feel myself grow impatient, my arrow quaking slightly in my hands as I stared at her. She always felt the need to take her sweet time in telling us to shoot; it was downright infuriating. Jeez, if you wanted us to become a sitting target then let us, don't teach us how to sit around and do NOTHING–

In a split second, I feel the arrow slip my finger and watched as it zips through the air, hitting the board three inches away from the bulls-eye. Whoops.

"Luxe," I hear the trainer growl, slowly directing my attention to where she stood, gracing her with a smile. "This is the fifth time this week you've went against an order. Please, share the wonderful excuse you have for disobeying an order."

I nod my head to the side looking at her, shrugging. "Excitement, probably." I giggled, twiddling with a strand of hair. "I mean, don't you know what tomorrow is?! It's so exciting to think about it!" I did a giddy hand clap, while the trainer rolled her eyes at me and the other girls around me laughed, muttering about my 'overly stupid enthusiasm.' It's not like I'm afraid like the rest of you; why fear the future when you can have fun with it? There was a – wait for it – _Glimmering_ charm about the Hunger Games that I could not get enough of as a child watching it with my family. The Fame, the praise, the pride that came with it all; all wonderful rewards for the sake of a few lives. I couldn't help but fantasize about it; and considering it's my last year before I turn 18, I had to leave an impression and go for it this year!

"Right... right..." My trainer mumbles begrudgingly. I frowned. "Archers, bows down." Everyone listens, retracting their grips and lowering their bows down and began to chat with one another. I was about to talk to some of my friends before I hear a whistle. I slowly glance over my shoulder to see it was my trainer motioning me over. What a killjoy. I give an exasperated sigh before prancing over to her with a smile, while she gave me nothing but a contempt look.

"Hmmm~?" I sing, swinging the bow in my hand looking at her. "Is there something wrong, chief? Or is it that my skills with a bow and arrow just top notch?" I twang the string of the bow, and a small, irritant groan escaped the trainers lip.

"Yes, and no. It's mainly about your behavior –"

"Is there something wrong with the way I act?" I pretend to be shocked by her statement, though, it hasn't been the first and surely wouldn't be the last I'd hear about it. "I didn't know a cheery personality could be such a problem, ma'am..."

"It's not that – It's how seriously you take everything –"

"You don't believe I'm taking anything seriously?" I say in shock, only to annoy her now, and she visibly showed it. "Ma'am I cannot believe you're accusing me of such a feat. Of course I'm taking everything seriously, it's just boring how you do things –"

"Glimmer, would you please listen for a moment; I do things the way I do because I was taught the same way you were at how to defend and fight in the Hunger Games." Yawn. "And I've been training you since you were young and I just think..." Boring, boring, boring. More mindless blabber; and again, it wasn't the first and I'd probably wouldn't be the last. I've gotten so accustomed to her chewing my ear off that it seemed like a natural habit to completely tune her out. A useful feat for the future; there will be times someone would try to ask me something and I'd simply ignore them because I'd be a victor, and I had the right to ignore them.

As Glitz, the female trainer, continues to speak about my behavior, I take it upon myself to glance around the wide training hall we shared with the males. By the end of the day, they were probably going to pick two out of our huge group to participate in the games, and I had to choose someone who would be easy to work with, but not completely self aware. It's obvious I'm going to be the winner at the end of this all and I had to tread carefully to make sure I do so. I checked out the males who were wrestling in front of the male trainer, Glint.

I recognize both of the males fighting with each other, but the leaner one really caught my eye. Especially since, despite how thin and tall he was, he could easily take down the heavier male with ease. What was his name again? He started with an M, right? Macilent? Malapert? Mammon? It's only when the trainer calls out his name among their wrestling I figured out what it was. Marvel! That's right; I remembered him from a while back, but I never spoke to him. I really mistaken him for a gangly nerd to be honest, someone who would be eaten up in an instant without the proper help. He had to disprove that theory; the first day he nearly beats another kid to death, I believe. A bit overkill, but the memory was fuzzy, since I was eleven when he was enrolled.

_He was a definite target of interest._ I thought to myself, giggling. I keep my focus on him, watching as he was forcibly pulled away from the person he was training with. The other guy, Lyons I believed his name was, was bleeding from his nose and looking like a complete wreck. Not bad, Marvel boy, not bad. Glint congratulates Marvel while sending the other boy out, and sending him to sit out. While walking to a bench to sit on, he catches a glance at me and I gave him a cheery smile and wave, where he gave me a confused look, glancing around him as if he thought I was waving at someone else. How adorable. He waves back at me slightly before I quickly divert my attention back to Glitz, who gave me another disappointed look.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" I ask, and she merely groans in disgust.

"Y'know what? Forget I said anything," Said and done. "I just want to get across that if you feel prepared to go out into the games, it's up to you –"

"I completely want to go through with them! Am I done here?" She gives me an irritated look and I rolled my eyes. "Okay, fine, can you please get your point across so I can go on my break?"

She sighs, before crossing her arms. "Go on ahead. I'll talk to you later. Five minutes for the lot of ya!" Glitz screams, leaving everyone else to groan begrudgingly. I give her another smile before walking off to my small group of peers that I would be fine being around. My wide grin slowly turns into an annoyed look as I approach my friends, Nacré and Silk. Nacré being a rather short female, with deeply tanned skin and short, shiny black hair and Silk being a bleached blonde with pale skin and bright blue eyes, making her name rather fitting for her looks. I wouldn't consider the both of them being better looking than me, nor better morally, but they're friends a girl needs in her life! Especially a soon to be victor.

They went on to question why I was called over, but they soon divert the conversation about something related to something other than practice, which I fully agreed that it is a bore and there's should be something more to it all. I focused my eyes back to dear little Marvel, as the boys go on their break as well. I should go and make a new friend; I glance over to my friends who were still focused on their conversation before breaking away from my group to see what was going on in his little mind. Yeah, the stares I got from the other boys in the room as I went over to him were a bit strange, but it's not like I cared; I had to make a new friend.

When I sit next to him with a – Wait for it – _Glimmering_ smile, he gives me an equally as confused look as the rest of the guys who saw me walk over here. I flutter my eyelashes before I spoke first, probably because he was a bit dumbfounded to speak.

"Hiya, Marvel, am I right?" He remains silent, just glancing over me. "Name's Glimmer, and I just can't help but feel terrible that we've been in the same academy together for how many so years and I haven't even talked to you yet! I'm totally to blame for that, so, hey!"

He gives me a blank look for a short period, before chuckling with a grin, glancing at a group of guys looking at us who were grinning back. He places his head in his hand and leaned against his leg, using his arm as support giving me a thought-filled look. "Ain't that crazy? To think we've been living in the same district together in the same Academy and we haven't once utter a single word to each other?" He grins a wider grin, which was rather stupidly charming and had a rather overall friendly attitude. Interesting. "Hold up, hold up, let me make this up alright?" He sits up straight and placed a hand over his heart, and acts as if he was taking a hat off his head to soon bow to me moments after. I giggle at his antics before he extended a hand to me. "Here, a proper introduction for the lady; Marvel Harrod, second son of three and probably the best out of them all because I can do silly voices and I can't help but love to make people laugh, and your name, ma'am?"

I decide to play along, since he was genuinely more entertaining than my friends on a normal day. "My name is lady Glimmer Luxe, Mister Harrod; only child and probably will remain so." I smile, extending a hand and gripping his. "It is a great pleasure to finally get acquainted with you. Where have you been all my life?"

"Right in front of you, lucky for me, not in front of you and your bow. I like having no holes in me, thank you." He says in an overly enthusiastic tone, firmly shaking my hand. "Now, Miss Glimmer what do I owe the pleasure of you gracing me with your presence?"

"I got bored with my friends and I needed a new perspective on things!" I swear Nacre and Silk heard me, as I felt daggers going up my spine. I shrug them off. "And I couldn't help but notice how skilled you are in with hand to hand combat. It's rather admirable!"

His cheery face turns into a questioning one, as he pursed his lip slightly. Did I stutter or something or did it really take him that long to comprehend a statement? "Oh, you mean my sparing session with Viscose right?" His name wasn't important but yes. "Yeah that, it was more of a statement you see, a preview of what I would do to someone who goes against me, right? I may be a kidder but I have a sense of pride. He was making fun of me saying I wasn't Tribute material. So, I showed him otherwise. Impressive isn't it?" Well, we had more in common than I thought. That made me respect him a little bit more.

"You? Not tribute material. Gosh, with what I just saw, you'd clean up the competition without fail." I gasp, placing my hand over my mouth to play along with his usual silly antics, making him grin. "I can see it now; Marvel Harrod, winner of the 74th Hunger Games. That is something I could see!"

"Really now...?" He questions, rubbing his chin slightly. This was easier than I thought.

"Well, weren't you thinking about volunteering?"

"Honestly no." He shakes his head. "I just wanted to prove my greatness. Besides, I have one more year left with the Reaping. Soon, I'll take over the diamond business and go from there. Why risk my life when I could cheer on other district members?"

"Because, then you could actually prove how great you are in front of all of Panem." I reply, trying to sound as convincing as I can. I hear Glint and Glitz yell out three minutes, signaling that we only had three more minutes til our break was over. I had three minutes to get this guy on my side. He is technically the best in the class male wise and I was female; we would tear up the competition and I would become victor easily. Including the other Career tributes we would associate ourselves with, this would be easy pickings. "You're a real strong and smart guy," Probably not the latter. "You would wipe the completion with ease. Especially if I was working with you!"

Two minutes.

"You're volunteering?" He asks.

"Of course. I'm best in the class. No one would dare try to mess with me." I reply. "And you're the best in our class, so you definitely should volunteer."

"But that means I have to kill you."

"Not off the bat, of course. I would love to assist you in taking out the rest of the competition." I smile a bit, nodding my head. "When that time comes, we'll take care of that, alright? You should totally volunteer, I can't force myself to trust these other guys... they're completely... scummy."

One minute.

"Then why trust me?"

"Because you're an actual good soul Marvel, and the only way to prove that is to show Panem how great you are. And I'll help you get there." I place a hand on his shoulders, trying to provide a bond of friendship between the two of us, which would be rather impossible. He didn't seem like the brightest lot, but I could use that to my advantage. He gives me another confused, yet thought provoked look.

"I'll invest in it." He mumbles. "I have a night to sleep over it, but don't be surprised if we're standing on the stage together, right?" Those were the words I wanted to hear. I smile genuinely again, doing a small cheer before giving him the biggest bear hug in the world. I hear him chuckle rather awkwardly as I refused to let him go until Glint yelled at the both of us to get back to our stations. I pull away just to give him another smile before waving him goodbye and prancing over to the group of females, most of them giving me a rather harsh stink eye. Oh, what? Did I pull a nerve? Silk and Nacre questions my behavior, but I give them no answer. I walk over to my target and pull out my arrow from the previous shot and walked to my position, my grin far from fading from my face.

Would you blame me? I just had a superb feeling that things will be going my way.

"Archers approach the line!"

Steady Goes it, keep focus.

"Clear down range!"

No one will get in my way.

"Archers may nock and fire seven arrows for score on my mark."


	4. Chapter 3: Cato

"Touching it's not going to make it any better, thank you – Ow." I mumble, as Clove glances over my sore eye. We were sitting on the outskirts of our village after our day at the academy. They are going to give us a break; just for the upcoming games so we could view them in the comfort of our homes. They were feeling particularly generous this time around, giving us a half day, where we over viewed and practiced everything we've learned that year, for the chance one of us either volunteer or reaped for the Games. I took that time to get back at those lowlifes who messed with Clove once again a lesson, fighting them three to one in a sparing session. One of them happened to get a few good shots, punching me dead in the eye, nose, and gut. At least I got the lesser of all of that fighting.

"You're going to get a black eye." Clove responds rather coldly, continuing to look over my eye. "When you get home, get some ice and place it over your eye so it doesn't persist." She pulls away from my face and sits on a rock across me, looking down at our village below. "You shouldn't have fought those guys anyway, they weren't worth your time."

I touch my sore eye once again, and quickly recoil from the pain. Jeez, I'll have to give the guy credit; that actually hurts. "Look, like I said earlier, we're friends; if someone attempts to harm or disrespect you, they have to deal with me. Capiche?" I lay back on the rock I was sitting on and stared up into the empty blue sky with the bright sun flashing warming my face. It's strange how such a calm day could bring dread to others; considering what tomorrow was. "It's not like they were a real threat, Clo, they were just another bunch of people to spar with."

I didn't see it, but I felt her dark eyes glare right at me the moment I used her nickname. As years go by, she seemed more and more perturbed by my use of it, and I never understood why. The first day I met her was when I was five, and I didn't really know her name the first few days because all I heard was Clo. So I kept calling her that from day, and it has been a thing between the two of us since. Her building annoyance of it all was questionable, but that's probably for the fact that she was "Professional" as some would say. Professional my ass; I usually held her silly antics against her, and so far, I have a total of a full thirty moments she would rather I forget. But I couldn't; because those were the rare moments where she would smile genuinely.

"Whatever..." She sighs, rolling her eyes and reaching over to the paper bag filled with snacks we've bought the moment we got out of class. She pulls out an apple and took a huge bite out of it, the crunching sound of it echoing throughout the mountain top. "I still say you've shouldn't have done it."

"Alright, no more beating on punks, I'll keep note of that." I said in a droll, condescending tone, turning my head slightly to look at her. "Excuse me,Clo, can I get something to snack on as well?" She gives me another glare, then reaches into the bag, tossing me an apple.

"Why do stick on to such a stupid nickname?" I catch the apple and sit up looking at her confused. "Is it really that hard to say Clove?" She asks in an even tone, her face lacking forms of anger. She just looked at me rather... curious.

"I dunno." I shrug. "Everyone calls you either Clove, Clover if they're being a jerk about it, or... Varius if they don't like you or they're one of the trainers. I guess Clo is kinda unique to me. It has value. I really can't put any logic on it." I chuckle, while she gives me another blank stare, before directing her attention to the busy village below. She had such a particular way about looking at things in the world; sometimes, she just looks at a picture and simply states the obvious, but others times, she could recognize every little defining detail. That probably helps with her skills; she was best at knife throwing. She never misses. Another thing about her that I could truthfully admire.

"You have such impeccable logic." She says drolly, before going quiet. We found ourselves basked in bated silence, and I direct my attention back to the sky once again. Hawks flew over us in a circle, and they caught my attention. I remembered Clo reading a book about different birds before the Capitol genetically bred their own, Hhawks being one of the few not to be touched. They were deadly animals, rather intelligent, and violent. The day after, we were paired off to train our teamwork skills. The group I was in, I was captain because of my leader ship qualities. I named our group team Hawk, and we instantly blew the other teams away. From that day, the hawk is still one of my favorite animals.

"Do you know what tomorrow is, right?" I hear Clo mutter, slowly sitting up looking at her, still munching away at my apple. She turns to look at me. "Don't tell me you've forgotten."

"Tomorrow's the Reaping." I reply, a slow nod of my head, then the penny drops. "And my birthday." I nearly forgot. "No, I haven't forgotten my own birthday." I mean, I was lucky enough to get a birthday on the day of Reaping, right?

She nods her head in reply, still giving me a plain look. "Are you going to do anything tonight with your family? Or did they forget because they're too enthusiastic for tomorrow?" It would be surprising if they did remember. I slowly nod my head no, and she stares for a moment. "Not even a small celebration?"

"I don't believe so." I shrug.

She looks at her feet for a moment, then stood up, tossing her apple core to the side before walking to a bigger rock behind us. She takes a moment, looking around the rock trying to find something, before she reveals what she was looking for. It was a small wooden box, and she walks over to me with it in hand. She sits next to me and hands me the box, and then, she flashes me a smile. "Happy 16th birthday, Cato. It's a bit early, but better than never."

I blink and look at the box starry-eyed, carefully opening it up and pulling out a dog tag chain, with two charms the shape of wings in front of the dog tag. On the back of the tag were my initials, C.A., hand carved on the back. This was brand new; this would be something a person from District 1 would hand make as a request. It was amazing.

"The wings were supposed to be a hawk's," Clo explains. "It was kinda hard to get them exactly right but... I tried."

"You made this yourself?"

"With a bit of help." Clo states. "I found the old dog tag bent the previous year and, well, I thought it would be a cool little project." She rubs the back of her neck while explaining, and I couldn't help but marvel at the chain she has given me. It is probably one of the better gifts I've gotten on my birthday ever. She took a year to work on it. I knew she was dedicated to whatever she does, but this was... freaking huge.

"Thanks..." I mumble, glancing it over once again. I feel like didn't have the right to put it on. I notice her motioning at the necklace and I quickly, but gently, put it on with a wide grin. "This looks pretty cool, eh?"

"Well, yeah, I'm the one who made it. I have all right to say it looks good." She says in a snide tone, before she starts to snicker, standing up again to collect her bag and her knives. "You better be appreciative though, I'm not going to work with metal ever again. So, tough luck, Cato."

I scoff, tossing the box to the side and hoping to my feet, collecting my own bag and walking next to her. "Hey, with this charm here," I tug at the chain and show off. "I got all the luck in the world. Race you to the bottom." With that said, I sprint ahead of her, leaving her in my dust. She'd probably catch up to me after the initial shock hits her, and probably beat me to the bottom of the cliff, but that's what I got for messing with one of the best students in the academy. Cold and calculating Clove; the girl who never misses and my close friend.

* * *

Like expected; she beat me by a mile exactly, running into town at full sprint, taunting me as we went along with a wide grin on her face and an aura of pride around her. She wasn't as arrogant as most would think, but she just had enough brass to piss off anyone. As I finally make it into town, she was already sitting by a general store talking to the owner with a cocky smile as I walked into town. Since it was still a bit early to go back home, we spoiled ourselves. I, having some extra money on hand, bought us both pastries from a local baker to eat as we walked home. Both of us having acute sweet tooths.

"You know," I start off saying, taking my sweet time walking down the dirt roads of our town. "I bet Victors get to eat whatever the hell they want, whenever they want."

"Oh really now?"

"Think of it like this; this sweet shit we're eating right now, is probably nothing compared to the meals Victors eat on the regular." I laugh, soon getting cold glares by others for my language. What? People cuss all they like, I see no problem in it. "They are probably drowning in in sweets. Wake up in the morning, have a cinnamon roll, afternoon eat some fucking cake, and then dinner is basically diabetes on wheels." Clo laughs, but only because I am making a fool of myself; my constant arm waving as I was explaining did not help one bit either.

"You keep your behavior up, the whole town and peacekeepers may see you as a threat, and attempt to neutralize or stun you or something." Clo replies.

"Like fuck if I know," I cough among my laughter. "They can try, I'm practically a muscle bound asshole." I flex my arm to prove my strength and Clo nearly chokes out of laughter, and this happens to go on for the majority of our trip until we make it to my home. Here we part ways and wish each other a Happy Hunger Games. Where the odds are forever in your favor.

Like I expected, there was no celebration ahead of time for my birthday; I just came home to an empty house. My parents were off working while I am left home alone. Great. It wasn't like I wasn't use to such a thing, it's only recently last year my brother, Vitus, volunteered for the games. He was 17 about to turn 18, and he had to leave a lasting impression. When my sister, Marcia, won the 68th games, my dad took it upon himself to privately train Vitus so he could win the games in the future, leaving me to privately train on my own. My father, being the idealist he was, wanted all three of his kids to bring pride to the district and his name. After those siblings from District 1 won those consecutive years, he thought that he could do the same with me and my brother, him being 17 and me 16 when it happens. Vitus died, and that completely crushed my father's dream.

Before he died, I was accustomed to seeing him get home before me, greeting me with a "I beat you." or some shit when he got home, with his wide shit-grin on his face as he did so. It's surprising to think that it has been a year since my eldest brother died on me, and my father's 'favorite' son, left us. Leaving only me and my sister, and even so, my sister doesn't visit us anymore. She's probably living it up in the Victors Village with ease, forgetting we even exist. Thus leaving me to pick up the slack my sister and brother left. And since Vitus' death, I could never make it up to my father's expectations. Constantly calling me a failure to him; comparing me to Vitus when our styles and methods of battle are two completely different things. He was agile, I was rigid; he was rather anti-social, I could be charismatic; he could control his anger, I feel like I'm about to blow any moment if something goes wrong. Yet, I was still belittled and ridiculed, both of my parents having expectations that I should live up to that my siblings has set, that I know I would never make because I was not them.

I take a deep breath then took myself up the stairs and slowly walk to my room, a certain picture hanging up on the wall caught my attention. An old photograph of my eldest sister, Vitus and I on my first day training. I was exactly seven years old. Vitus was eight, and Alisa, my sister, was twelve. I wonder if they realized they were going to be the main reason why the relationship with my own family is fucked up. The picture annoys me more than it should, to the point where I rip it off the wall and break the frame with my own bare hands. Vitus couldn't fucking do that. Yet, he always had the audacity to call me "Little, Baby Cato." I swear to you I'm not going to be the one sitting in a damn grave like you are. Bastard.

I had to train; I may have been home to take half the day off like trainers said, but I couldn't sit down just yet. Tomorrow was the day; the day I had to prove myself to my living family. My bitch of a sister, and the bastards I called parents. I need to bring pride to my District, and bring respect to my household and name, then no one will be saying "Little baby Cato" or any of that bullshit. I was feared in my academy class and I can sure as hell use the fear that I bring to my advantage. I was training most of my life for this moment and I'm not going to give it up now; I'll join the games, and I won't promise "Even if it kills me" because I know _I won't die._


	5. Chapter 4: Marvel

A cute girl comes up to you during your break to talk to you. Specifically you; the son of a wealthy Diamond distributor asking you, again, SPECIFICALLY_ YOU_, to be her tribute partner for the games. What do you do? Do agree or disagree? Heck, I may not be the_ sharpest_ tool in the shed (I haven't even seen a shed before) but I can tell when I'm being played like a fiddle. Glimmer Luxe; daughter of Stunner Luxe and Velvet Luxe, the third wealthiest goldsmiths in the district. I haven't directly contacted her in anyway except when we were children and my parents had hosted the pre-games celebration, but I know she's a complete brat. Extremely manipulative, yet charismatic; I can see why she'd like to join the games, she could get so many sponsors with her looks and her 'charm'. Barf.

Though, I praise her for her effort and her decision; she's right, within the group of males in our class, I was probably one of the more likely to survive the games if push comes to shove. I may have been lanky, but I was skilled in the weaponry and I was rather funny guy. With that combination, I'd get more sponsors than I could handle. I'd be a great addition to the games; I'd win it too, like Glim said, albeit I took every word she said with a grain of salt. I could see it in the stars_ Marvel Harrod, Winner of the 74__th__ Hunger Games. Praise him and his almightiness. _Has a nice ring to it, right?

Yet, despite how I could take out the rest of the competition with ease, I honestly think the games are pretty stupid to participate in. Yeah, glory and fame is all well and good, I know cause I live in the wealthiest district with adults who are extremely material-based and catty, and yeah, Panem should know the legacy of the Harrod Diamond industry like District 1, but to risk my neck out in a battlefield with chumps who doesn't know how to handle themselves in a battle of that scale? Yeah, District 2 and 4 would be a challenge, but they'd still not be worth my time. I'm already extremely wealthy and I only have one year to go with the Reaping. I could live an already luxurious life via your parent's wealth which you know you're going to receive over your deadbeat wanna be stylist elder brother, or stick my neck out killing a bunch of other kids risking my life to get an even _more _luxurious life. Yeah, I'd chose the first option. Yeah, I know hard work gets you everywhere, but if you can go the easy route, I'd suggest doing just that.

Basically: The games are more fun to watch than to participate, and the festivities surrounding them were worth the watch. Especially the Pre-Games celebration one of the wealthier District 1 producers host. It's usually the family who made the most money the year before the games and, for the 3rd time in a row, my family won that bout; meaning we were going to host the biggest party a family of five could conceive. It would be so loud, even District 13 would hear the music, and they're all _dead._ That's how booming a Harrod party was. And I take pride in that. Hell, what kind of citizen from district 1 would I be if I did not retain a bit of pride? I'd be shamed. Or worst; I'd be taken to District 12, and we all know that's a fate worst than death.

The party was booming; smiling faces, cheery atmosphere, and music blaring louder than I can think. Without question, this possibly may be the best party party in the history of the games. Happy 74th Hunger Games pre-reaping celebration; where the odds are forever in your favor. The simple mentioning of that phrase makes me laugh, because, honestly, how is being thrown into an arena with 23 other kids in your favor? It's like they want us to laugh at their simplicity of human life. Which, they succeed in.

I stand around greeting guest like the rest of my family was, wearing a white sequined blazer with black pants and shoes, similar to the rest of my family, as a representation of our business. I handle the younger crowd, mainly those around my age and my peers from my class back in the academy. It was entertaining to say the least, seeing most of them have a good time, especially when we are cracking jokes and carrying on. I am the center of attention with my witty jokes and my carefree attitude, to the point where everyone stops to hear what I have to say, afterward laughing in glee. I was killing them, and I remain doing so until my father taps my shoulders in the middle of a performance. Of course he catches me at a bad time; with my coat over my head like a hood, I was pretending to be a Nun. He was thoroughly not impressed.

"Why... hello there, old man..." I say in an old lady voice, still staying in character. "Have thee come to repent thy sins–"

"Marvel, quit with that behavior."

"Yes sir." I quickly fix my coat and my hair and stood straight, looking at my father directly in the eyes respectfully as he straightened my coat out slightly before before giving me a haughty grin. Is it bad I think my own dad look like some younger, brown haired green eyed version of Santa? Seriously, he could hide a body in that beard of his. "Is there anything you want from me...? If not I'd like to remain being the head nun of our chapel." I point to my peers and they too had their jackets over their heads like hoods, before being caught by my father gaze, soon fixing their outfits as well.

"Oh, you know how a father is." He says cheerfully, walking beside me and patting my back. "I just wanted to talk to my dear son who never cease to make me proud, isn't that right?"

"Proud you say? I haven't doing my job as a teenager right then. I'm supposed to get you disappointed. I need to work harder..." I give off a pondering look, making my father laugh.

"Always playing coy, boy," It's probably my best trait. "You never cease to crack a smile on my face, do ya?"

"I didn't mean that to happen, you put that upon yourself. You decided to crack a smile old man now we have to fill in those cracks. That cannot be healthy. Humans don't crack." My dad nearly chokes laughing, starting to walk away and I follow, only because if I didn't he'd probably be pissed.

"Well, it's good to know you're already practicing your charm for the games, that's quite the facade to put up. It'll get you a lot of sponsors." Excuse me? I nearly stop where I was at his little comment. Hey, I said I'd think about it, not actually go for it. Have some other sap do it.

"Uh... aha, yeah nice one, Pop..." I laugh a bit awkwardly, scratching the back of my head as I continue to walk with him, rather uncomfortable. "What do you... specifically mean by that, huh?"

"You're volunteering this year, aren't you? For the games?" Uh. "I've talked to your instructors and they think you have extreme potential, Marvel. I even talked to the Luxe family and they told me that you were going to join the games with their daughter." She didn't – she did; she told him, and with his attitude, he really expects me to stick my neck out. I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place with this situation; either tell it to the old man straight or just casually agree. Considering I'm almost a year til I'm 18, I'll be a legal adult, and he can't tell me otherwise. So, I guess speaking my mind would work for this situation.

"Uh, yeah, about that, old man, aha..." I laugh a bit, to lighten the blow as I stop the both of us and moved us to the side so we could talk without someone ease dropping. I shove my hands in my pockets and started to think VERY._ CAREFULLY_. About my words. I mean, he's my dad, he'll understand. "Pops, listen, hear me out, listen to the words I'm going to speak; ah, I thought that we've already came to a decision about my future. I take over the family business; simple as that. Why do you think I'm going to participate in the games?" With that single phrase, my father's mood instantly becomes sour.

"What kind of foolishness are you saying?" He says bitterly, disappointment rolling off his tongue, before he ends up smiling again. "Ahh, I see, you're playing. Well, Marvel, you almost got me there; I was almost disappointed in you. You're really good at your act." No, I'm being serious now, old man... why aren't you believing me?

I slowly shake my head no, just looking at him glossy-eyed. I smile but I was really panicking; like, he really wants me to go out there and risk my life. There's no way... no way he'd think this would be alright. "I... I'm not playing, dad, I just think that it's stupid for me to volunteer for the games when, I remember exactly you; you, yourself, telling me that my eldest brother, Tulle, if you don't remember him, is a deadbeat, and you'd let me take over the business. So, there would be no need for me to be in the games..." His face goes sour again, and his eyes glares right through me. I want to sink into a hole and not come out. My dad; the guy I always go to to help me out... is giving me the stare he usually gave Tulle; who fucked up more ways than one. How did my opinion drop me down to the level of my brother?

"Marvel, you really need to rethink what you're saying right now." He says rather insulted, like I spat out profanities to him like Tulle did on the norm. "You are the top of your class with excellent skills and charisma that could win you the games and you don't even have to try and you're saying you rather be like me? A hack diamond producer? I have another child you know, your little brother, Glance? Or are you forgetting that you're not an only child and despite your brother wanting nothing with the family business at least he'll use his talents in make up for good, being a designer. You're becoming a waste." He continues to belittle me, and I start to shake, wrapping my arms around my body as he continue to glare at me without feeling. He's not serious. He couldn't be serious. I know I was trained for this for the majority of my life, but – but there's so many others who would be good for this. Why did it have to be specifically me?

He keeps speaking; telling me how much of a disgrace I'd be to my whole family and district if I didn't volunteer. Saying how I'm "wasted talent" or "if I didn't volunteer, I wouldn't be his child before." and I've seen what he had done to Tulle. Yes, my mother still acknowledged him, but my father... oh dear god my father made it like he died. Going on to say that he only had two sons. I didn't want to be ignored; I don't want to be like Tulle. The turmoil he went through not being able to use the Harrod name to get anywhere was painful to look at. It was only recently he gave in to my father's ignorance and begged for forgiveness and to be his child again. I don't want to be like that. I refuse to be like that.

I don't know how long his belittling went on for, but all I know is it felt like forever, to the point where I zoned out from panic and anxiety. I found myself sitting down on a bench on the balcony of my home, seeing the wide stretch of buildings that makes up District 1. Bright lights, glitz buildings, and smiling faces; something I am used to seeing everyday... Why did it make me antsy?

What felt like a deafening silence was soon interrupted by a voice calling out my name, snapping me back to reality. I glance behind me to see Glimmer with a wide – ugh – _Glimmering _(I'm going to be sick of that term by the end of this) smile walking towards me in a rather provocative dress, a bright golden dress that droops to her knees, with her hair decorated with golden accents to go along with it. She'd left me awestricken if I wasn't so self involved. I quickly change demeanor for her, of course, acting like the cocky ass shit I was.

"Well damn," I say with a grin. "Someone looks like a princess, and here you are gracing me once again. A poor peasant in his own home. Aren't I the lucky one?"

She must have enjoyed my banter to smile as wide as she did, sitting next to me rather close giving me a huge hug before pulling away. "For a peasant, your home is quite big. I've been looking all over for you, actually, only to ask if you've been thinking about what I've asked you back in class." Oh. That. Of course.

"You mean your offer to basically be your lapdog during the games, right? I'd consider myself more of a cat person, really." She giggles.

"I'm just wondering!" She asks, twiddling her golden hair between her fingers. "When I came here, I saw Glitz and Glint together and I was talking to them about who'd they've talked to about volunteering." I remember; Glint asked me, I kinda laughed in his face. "Then, out of pure coincidence, your father, oh my gosh, came over and talked to us. I felt like I wasn't worthy enough to talk to the man who develops the diamonds I wore on my dress, see?" I glance at her outfit and surely notice the small gemstones. "And, gosh, you should have seen the look on his face when Glint praised you on your training throughout the years and how he'd wish you'd be in the games. It was like something out of a movie and it was charming." If only she saw my father's behavior when I refused.

"Well, that's rather interesting..." I say with a bit of ponder, trying to remain chipper. "I mean, I am pretty damn great, aren't I? They have to make a statue as big as Panem to show my awesomeness."

"Marvel Harrod; District 1 –"

"The Odds were in his favor." I finish, making her give me a slight look, as if she was expecting something.

"Does that mean what I think it means?" She asks, rather hopeful, fluttering her eye lashes at me. I hesitate, just looking at her blankly before I direct my attention back to the lights of the city, feeling rather empty. I didn't have a choice in the matter. Did I? Either I go into the arena where I'm already labeled a dead man, or refuse, and become dead to my father and family. And I don't believe I can survive that seclusion. I have better chance killing a man at 17 than I do being alone.

I slowly look back at Glimmer, who gave me a cheery demeanor, and I grin. "Does that mean I'm going to volunteer? I'll do you one better, I'll run up on that stage screaming 'I will be tribute for my district!' and they'll have to put me in the games." She takes a moment to look at me, before cheering, and hugging me tightly. She gives me a peck on my cheek saying things about how I'm so awesome or amazing, when really, I had no choice.

There was no escaping fate.


	6. Chapter 5: Clove

A new dress a year; each year it's symbolizes a different form of style. The kind of getup my mother would want me to use if I ever volunteered. On my first year when I was twelve, my mother got me a puffy grey dress with black flowers on it, to show "youth" and "childhood essence" as she says. When I was thirteen, she got me something rather "cute" and when I was fourteen she got me something "spirited". All of the outfits remaining monochrome; nothing was bright or vibrant because they didn't want to distinguish certain kids among the rest. It was like District 2's variation on playing the games; having a certain gimmick that screamed "This is what the district is about." With District 1, they had rather arrogant or somewhat naive players who ends up being deadly killers, or with District 4 usually having rather good looking competitors, which assists them getting Sponsors. It's all how you play the game to win.

To tell the truth, I didn't know how others did it. To be charming and charismatic one minute, to be a serial killer the next. I can understand being one and having that as your gimmick, to be exact, Brutus had a deadly facade, often taking any chance to show his strength and worth of his District, thus why he was respected throughout. Enobaria act was exactly the same, except she had more Class than Brutus. That is, until she ripped out the throat of the last competitor. I guess it's more than meets the eye.

I sit on my bed after waking up and taking a long shower in a baggy shirt and shorts, staring at my mirror across from me. I kept wondering about the dress my mother decided to get me this year around, and how she'll style my hair to go along with it. Thinking about it now, I just want her to leave it as it is. It would make a statement, if you think about it. The girl who usually kept her hair up suddenly decides to leave it down and let it flow behind her. Maybe that'll be a title for me; the girl with the raven hair. It has a nice ring to it, but I like 'the girl who never misses' better. That would be a nice inference for my talent, probably better than anything else I could come up with.

A few minutes past before it became an hour. I glance out the window to view the Justice Building, and the amount of peace keepers setting up and merely shrug at the sight. At that moment, my mother enters my room with a bothered look on her face. The moment she saw me, her expressions quickly changes into a smile, as she hides an outfit behind her.

"Happy Hunger Games, Clove," She says in a meek tone, her face looking pale and rather unnerved. "It's nice to see you wake up on time as per norm."

"Did I really have a choice?" I say plainly, shrugging my shoulders and glancing outside once again. "It's my duty to partake in the reaping like every other 12-18 year old in my district so we all have a change to be the two tributes that partake in the games, aren't I right?" I hear an exasperated sigh slip her lips, as I feel her sit down next to me. I glance over to her, and she gave me a rather woeful look. I never seen her this distressed. That worries me.

"Clove–" She stops herself mid-thought before continuing, taking a deep breath. "If... you had a choice about participating in the games and just... skipping out another year, which would you choose?" My eyebrows furrows at her question, since this rarely was a topic of discussion between us. No parent of District 2 talks about their kid attempting to skip a year of reaping. Never.

"What are you talking about?" She remains quiet. I stare at her for a few seconds before dropping the subject, because it was obvious that she didn't want to continue talking, allowing an awkward silence to come between the two of us.

Eventually, she smiles at me again, and stood up from my bed, lifting up the dress that had been sitting next to her and revealing it to me. To my surprise, it was something with a hint of color; a black dress with red accents around it. I wouldn't consider red one of my favorite colors, but, not to toot my own horn, it suits me well. The dress entranced me. It looked too well made to be true, considering the outfits I've wore previous years were fancy, yes, but they were rather lackluster. This dress on the other hand looked handwoven; a personal outfit sent to the Capitol. That's when the penny dropped, but I remained quiet.

She leaves the room to allow me to get dress, and I took my time marveling the outfit on me as I looked at the mirror. My hair still drooped to my sides, plain and straight while my face lacks an award winning smile, remaining cold and unfeeling. The dress is nice, but I feel like I was missing something from this ensemble. And I couldn't recall what.

My mother reenters the room minutes later, and was completely stupefied. Her deep, dark eyes looked me over and for the first time, I saw her cry tears of joy. They fell gracefully from her face as she came towards me, cradling one of my hands in both of hers gently. Just from her single touch, I feel more warmth than I do on a usual day between the two of us, where she merely just stares at me as a child she just happen to have.

She eyes me down for a moment at a lost for words. Her smile soon fade, once again being woeful. Her grip on my hand tighten, and then the look on her face became serious. "You're not doing it."

I nod my head to the side. "I'm not doing what?"

"Your father." She says, her voice cracking slightly. "Your father wants you and Cato to volunteer. H-he went over to their house this morning and I-" She starts to tear up again, and she brings me into a hug, holding me tightly. I can feel tears drop to my shoulders and hear her hiccuping. What's with the sudden blast of emotions? This seems so unlike her. I don't like it. It's so ugly.

"Mother," I say quietly, letting her finish her crying. "Why are you acting like this? This isn't you-" She pulls away from me quickly, and place both hands on my cheeks and just looks down at me. Her lips quivers in anxiety.

"Clove, listen to me," She pleas. "I... I am not a good mother. I know I'm not. I had you too young when I was foolish and-" She stops talking for a moment, to collect herself. She takes a deep breath, then she speaks again. "C-Clove. Give me another year. Give me another year; let me be a good mother before you decide to risk your life out there-"

"You're being ridiculous." I say bluntly, shocking her. "If I volunteer, I would win-"

"It's not always like that Clove."

"The majority of winners of the Hunger Games are usually District Two competitors. We usually win because we are the best-"  
"Clove, listen to me-"

"Are_ you_ even listening to yourself? You went on for the last fourteen years of my life shrugging me off, only talking to me when it's needed and when dad needs you to influence me to do what he wants me to do. And here you are, a blubbering mess saying you want me to go against my father's word?" I arch an eyebrow, my tone remaining plain, yet rather spiteful. I nod my head to the side to get a better look at her, and soon my face goes as sour as my mood. "Would you make up your damn mind?"

She was taken back, far from woeful now; she was in pure agony. Never in my life I've seen such emotions run rapid across her face; it sicken me. I felt my stomach wrench and cringe at her behavior, making me hesitant. Her demeanor shifts to something more serious, while sadness remain in her eyes. "Clove," She says, her tone going rather grim and strained. "Hear me out. You're too much like your father; stubborn and always assume that you're right... You're not." I only stare. "Clove, you're my baby girl... my only child. And I don't want to lose you too soon. I-I know you have potential doll just... Wait another year before you decide to honor the district... I-"

"Fine." I say. Not like her argument was convincing, but, strangely, I couldn't stand seeing the pain writhed in her face. My stomach couldn't take the abuse anymore. I look down, removing her hands from my cheeks and holding them gently. I refuse to look at her. I feel like I didn't have the right to. "I'll volunteer next year. But not _for you_." I made sure to emphasis my reasoning. "I can deal with another year of training so I'm at my peak..." I take a quick glance at my mother, and her face was flushed with relief. She pulls me in for another hug and kisses me on my cheeks, all of it felt superficial, yet I play along anyway. There was something about this situation that did not settle well with me, and it all feels like an elaborate farce I was force to partake in. I didn't have much say in the matter anyway. When I make a promise, I keep it.

* * *

Eventually, I was ready, though, I was rather discontented and annoyed. For one thing, I'd stick out like a sore thumb with the dress I've gotten, which showed a rather professional and deadly style, and even with the dress, there was no reason for it other than to make me stand out. Yet, I still look like the rest; my hair was put up despite my resistance and I had the familiar serious look of the rest. My mother claims that I look nice, but I feel like I was missing something to my outfit, but I didn't fight nor reject the idea. I merely went along. But, instead of wearing a pair of flats like she wanted to, I wore my favorite pair of black boots, the same ones with a convenient knife sheath in it. It was hard to stay apart from one of my knives, but you'll never know when it'll come in handy.

My father came home around the same time I finish dressing up for the Reaping, with Cato and his family following close behind, more surprisingly, Cato's sister sat in the living room talking avidly with my father. Alisa rarely came home; spending most of her time in the Victor's Village doing who knows what and who knows who. With looks of her own, she could do whatever she want; vivid blue eyes and sterling blonde hair was a deadly and manipulative combination that helped her win the games. Like Enobaria, I saw her as a role model, but her behavior was atrocious; especially how she treats Cato, and how she talks about Vitus. She constantly complains about how Cato could never make it to her level and how she would be the pride of their family, and his parents supports her misdemeanor. My father tries to make the situation better by praising Cato, but in the end in his ridicule either way.

"Why did she have to be such an obnoxious bitch?!" He gripes outside my house, pacing back and forth while I look across the houses nearby. Others were finishing up their outfits while others got with their friends to talk excitedly. I slowly nod my head in agreement. "Every fucking time she comes back home, she takes the chance to belittle me like I'm a fucking District 12 citizen, huh?!"  
"Cato, calm yourself." I say. He snarls at me slightly. "You shouldn't take her words to heart. She got by the games without talent. You know she's not as good as you with weaponry-"

"Then why in hell does she acts like it?!" He yells, kicking a wooden box near by, nearly breaking it upon impact. "She takes up every opportunity to say she's better than me when I know for a fucking fact that she is not-"

"Cato, yelling and fussing won't fix a damn thing." I hiss at him, reeling him back. Here, he realize that he may have made a mistake by irritating me. He takes a deep breath and ran his hands through his blonde locks. After a moment of catching himself, he speaks again.  
"You know- You know what?" He says rather matter of factly, a grin appearing on his face. "I'm gonna prove her wrong. Alright? You know what your father said. I should volunteer this year and sure as hell I'm going to. We're going to wipe the fucking competition-"

"I'm not volunteering."

"I will literally smash in the other fucker's head in-" He stops in the middle of his anger filled rant to look at me. His eyes narrowing at my straight face, completely in shock. He takes a moment to process what I've just said, the look of confusion remain. "What?"

"I'm _not_ volunteering. Some other girl will have to do it." I restate. I look over to him with the look on my face remaining stern and forward. "They'll have to reap some other female to do it. Unless they pick my name, I'm not doing it." Cato becomes silent, with a look writhe on his face that screams_ I don't believe you_. I wouldn't believe me either; I say outright in his eyes "I will not honor my district", which I knew meant a lot for him. I already believe our district is the best of them all, and we prove it. It's not like there was someone going to change that. Yet, the look on Cato's face remains dumbfounded, and after a moment, it goes to bitterness, then to his usual fall back emotion: frustration.

"What the hell are you going on about?" He says, as if I've betrayed him, his tone being rather quaky with rage hiding behind it. "Clove, are you thinking clearly right now? Are you sick or something? You- you're far from serious, right? Like, we've talked about this before. We talked about volunteering for the reaping one of these days and- and here you are standing in front of me saying 'I'm not doing it.' Yet, we're standing here, the two best students in the whole fucking Academy of District Two who has the best fucking chance in those damn games for a chance of fame and pride for the district, and you're having cold feet-!?"

"I do not have cold feet." I snarl at him, giving him a glare that makes him step back. "I am only thinking_ logically_." I remember that promise, and I couldn't forget it even if I try. The scar on my thumb will not allow me.

I remembered promise as bright as day, in fact we were in a similar situation as we were now, except it was the other way around; I was convincing him to not volunteer, not him telling me I should. Twelve year Cato was a sub par warrior, and was far from as good as he was now. Yet, he was blinded by aspiration, and was willing to jump into battle without a clear thought. I didn't know what came over me that day, but I was panicked. His parents and siblings egged him on, willing to let their youngest son fight for the sake of Panem and the district as a whole; even my father was influencing him to jump into the games, albeit the night before he said that Cato was such a baby, and how he couldn't handle a bit of a beating. I started to put two and two together, and I came to a horrifying conclusion that there was something more to this. Yes, there was time they genuinely mean for a kid to go risk their life for the games because they had the higher chance to win that game, but there was other times, they just sent either the most incompetent fools out there, who dies foolishly within the games. They were never spoken of again. And if they were, they were shamed. I placed two and two together, and at the age of eleven, I realized they weeded out the weak kids by giving them hope that they would be a victor. And they were going to do the same to Cato.

It was sickening how similar this situation was to the day we made our promise. In fact, Cato said those same words to me the day before the reaping on the year of his Twelve birthday. "What the heck are you going on about?" He questioned, the two of us standing alone on our usual spot on the mountain top, overlooking the quiet village as nightfall beckoned over the two of us. I gave him a dead serious look, making that look the first of many to come.

"You heard me." I said, my tone was strained and hoarse. "Cato, you're not volunteering for the Reaping- It's just your first year. You need to study more games before you just go into it. No one at the age of twelve survive. Everyone in the arena would be ten times your size and you'll surely die-"

"Clo, you heard your father and you heard my parents," He said rather confidently. "I'm better than most in the class, I have a better chance than anyone else-"  
"You will die." I said bluntly, not giving him a chance to give me his side of the argument, I commanded him to listen to me and me only. "Cato you can't even handle a one on one fight with people our age. Why do you believe you have the power to take on kids who are probably eighteen or seventeen in there who would strangle you without hassle? Cato, listen to me, you're not ready. We're both not ready. But if you're so sure about your ability within the arena, then I'll go with you. We'll volunteer together. Just not now, I don't want to lose my best friend." I don't know what came over me that day, but I did remember the extreme shift in his mood when he saw my face, and how my eyes spoke to him louder to than the words I said. Something came through to him, and I didn't know what.

"But... But..." He mumbled, his tone getting quieter by the second. He looked down to his feet as an idea came into my mind. I got closer to him, slipping a knife out of my boot and lifted up my hand. At first I was hesitant, but I took the knife, and carved into my thumb an upside-down triangle, the water symbol. A lot of people considered us at the time as water and fire; complete opposites who complimented each other, and he knew this. Blood slowly dripped my freshly made wound, leaving Cato slightly shocked when I handed the knife over to him. He eyed the knife, before glancing up to me with a glossy-eyed stare. "A... Blood Pact?"

"I need you to promise me, Cato." I said in a demanding tone. "If you go, I go as well, but only when we're ready."

He took a hollow breath, taking the knife in his hand and looking at me with doubt. He glanced at me again before he slit his thumb to make a rightside-up triangle, forming the fire sign on his skin. He cringed for a moment before I took his hand and placed our thumbs together. He didn't resist and merely went along now. Too dumbfounded to talk or go on to say a brash, illogical comment. "Clo..."

"Repeat after me." I demanded. He nodded, becoming quiet again. _"Dictum factum." _  
"What is said is done." He replied almost immediately as I spoke, remembering our time studying Latin for two years. I decided to make good use of it.

_"Dictum meum pactum."_ "My word is my bond."

_"Iuncta iuvant."_ "Together we strive."

_"Vi et animo,"_ "With heart and soul."

_"Petrita manus mens exculta,_" "And skilled hand and cultivated mind,"

_"Nos viam inveniam aut faciam,"_ "We will either find a way or make one."

_"Ad Victoriam."_ "To victory."

The words hung over the air for a long, uncomfortable silence. The two of us looked at each other with our eyes speaking for us, Cato remaining as passionate as ever, while I still pleaded for him otherwise. By the end, he listened to me, and kept his word. Now as he looks at me with that same look those four years ago, except now, he was filled with resentment and disappointment for me going back on my word.

"Don't you remember_ Dictum meum pactum_?" He hisses at me, getting in my face. "_My word_ is _my bond_? The same fucking promise you made me take four years ago on my first reaping?" He lifts up his right thumb to show me his mark, and I instantly feel horrible, a feeling I lacked when my mother pleaded to me.

"Cato you know me and I never go back on my word but this situation is different-"

"How is betraying me different?" There is a sharp sting that came to his word, and it fills me with an unbearable dread. Yet, he should understand when I have to do something, I had my own reasons and it was never directly against him. He was being childish, arrogant even. Then, why did it hurt so much to see him look at me like a broken man?

"I'm not betraying you..." I say simply, shrinking away slightly, thinking of ways to diffuse the already outlandish situation, when in reality I was at a stalemate, and I had no where I could go at this without sinking the knife I've placed in his back deeper. "Cato, please hear me out-"

Our discussion comes to a close as Cato's family and mines came out the door, motioning towards the two of us. I glance at a nearby clock; 1 o'clock, we had to go to the Justice building. The Reaping is near.

* * *

This time of the year, you wouldn't believe how friendly everyone of District Two got. It was like a national holiday throughout; joy and merriment plagued the district like the common cold. Even usually stern and serious peace keepers who had placed themselves around the District were casual and exciting to be around. Everyone is happy; except the majority of the children.

It is the reaping where you learn about three types of people. Those who are legitimately afraid of the Games and being chosen, relying on those who were more willing to volunteer themselves. Those people end up being like the rest once those volunteer, happy, carefree, and drunk off life. Then there were those who bluff about being brave enough to volunteer themselves, but when the time comes around, they wait around like the rest for the last type of people; the true warriors of district two. The two people to give up their lives to represent their district and the greatness of it all. Cato and I were suppose to be this. And on the look on his face, he was ready to be a warrior; to fight to the top of the food chain to win the games. I could see it, he worked hard and he deserved it. Cato Aburius, winner of the 74th Hunger Games; It had a nice ring to it.

Yet, as think about it, I feel the illness inducing tugging in my stomach as I remember that I broke our promise I set up. I wouldn't say I was a good person, but I wasn't a terrible one, either. I do what I do because it needs to be done, and breaking my promise to Cato was one of those things that had to be done for the sake of the both of us. It was the right move.

But I couldn't stand myself for it. While walking to the Justice building and into our lines to sign up, I catch glances at Cato, who flashes me a look that was rather forgiving, which was unlike him. A soft look that said quietly "I'm not mad at you." Yet, why did it feel that way?

Once I was signed in, I file into the group of fifteen-year-old girls on one side of the justice field. The majority of the girls in that area made sure to avoid me, either out of fear of what I can do, or to make me stand out with my dark dress with a bright color on it. The only girl who gives me something other than a cold shoulder was a girl name Aelia, a red-headed, blue eyed witch who could easily pull off looking like an adult any day. She was always second rate in my class, a step behind me, and always contained a watered down dislike for me, and took any moment she could to belittle me, which ends up backfiring in the end when I 'happen' to accidentally throw a knife near her head. Nevertheless, that does not stop her for attempting to prove she was better at me, which, again, fails. She, herself, was wearing a dark outfit with a bright color on it as well; probably a request to her parents. I have a gut feeling that she was going to volunteer, and in an instant, I dislike it. She wouldn't be reliable; one minute out in the field with her, and Cato's a dead man. She, like a few in the past before, must be one of those they send into the Hunger Games so they can rid of them; to take out the bad blood out of the population. I'd be up for it, but Cato's life was on the line, and I wouldn't have her uselessness get in the way of that. I just hope for someone more capable to take that place.

I direct my attention to the stage and eye it down with intensity. All four seats were filled with highly established people of importance; the first was taken by Mayor Dillius, a rather spineless man who had nothing of importance to him except he manages the district. It was mainly the trainers of the academy and the peacekeepers who did most of the work around here anyway. Next was Julius , a rather tall and fruity male with his bright pink suit and long, brown and dark violet hair that fell to his shoulders. He was the escort for District Two for about seven years, yet look like he hasn't aged a day, remaining rather light-hearted while keeping an aura of morbid joy around him at all time. I wouldn't mind meeting him, but his overly cheery yet grim demeanor throws me off at times. Lastly were the two mentors, two people I've looked up to since comprehending the games; Enobaria and Brutus, true examples of District Two pride and power. I could go on hours marveling at them and their work, but then two o'clock struck, and the world completely stops for this moment.

Mayor Dillus went up to the podium and went through the same routine we go through every year; the reading of the history of the hunger games, the treaty of treason, and why we play and set them up in the first place. I knew this story by heart, but sometimes it gets a bit droll for my taste, yet I clap at the end of his speech anyway, albeit I judge his pronunciation. A huge round of applause echos throughout the district as Brutus and Enobaria rise from their seats to give their two cents about the games, both of them grinning wide as Enobaria's sharpened teeth glimmer slightly as the sun hit them correctly. Once that was out of the way, strides towards the podium in the middle of two glass bowls filled with paper. A wide, albeit scary grin crept across his face as we cheer him on, giving him the right to silence us for our rowdiness.

"Happy 74th Hunger Games Sirs and Madams," He says in husky tone, his voice wavering far from his appearance. "As I look over all of you lovely young men and women of district two, I can't help but find joy in seeing you all once again." He begins taking a moment to talk about his excitement about this whole event, completely derailing from the point. I take this moment to glance over to Cato, who, honestly, stood tall like he was a Peacekeeper. His hands were behind his back and his posture was outright perfect as he eyes the stage with intent. It would be admirable considering the situation we were in, and a few guys around him saw it, shrinking behind him hoping he volunteers. Lucky for them, they were going to get their wish.

"Now, time to pick the tributes! Now, I know every year we go 'Ladies first', but I'd like to give the gentlemen a chance first. How about it?" He gives off a chuckle, before digging his hand into the glass bowl that contained the males name.

"You don't want that guy!" A voice rings out, and we all spin our heads around to look right at Cato, who takes it upon himself to walk to the aisle with a confident stride. A wide, award winning smile grace his face, perking interest in St. Clair and the others sitting on the stage.

"Oh really now, young man?" He questions as Cato storms onto the stage, his head far up into the clouds. Cato walks over to St. Clair, extending a hand out and shaking it firmly. "And why's that?"

"Because, I'm volunteering." Cato says simply, turning to face the rest of us. With poise, confidence, and slight murderous intent in his voice, he yells into the microphone. "My name is Cato Aburius, and I volunteer as tribute for the_ 74th Hunger Games!_" He raises both of his arms up as the crowd cheers. Whistling and carrying on. A younger male from the twelves started chanting _"Bloody Brutal Cato"_ and soon, it started to roar and echo throughout the town. It went on for a good few minutes before silences everyone. His grin on his face seems to have like the performance Cato put up, making his demeanor genuinely happy than smiling for the camera.

"Why, aren't you an eccentric young man. Well, Cato, I am genuinely honored to be your escort." grins, before directing his attention to the podium. "Look at him, ladies, ain't he a charmer?" A few girls swoons as part of the show. "Now, who's going to be the lucky female to back up this ladies man?" St. Clair digs into the second bowl and for a moment, I feel time stop around me, and an idea came through to me. I glance over to Aelia, who just seems urging to volunteer, and with her looks, she could definitely do that. I had to do something, because if she did, Cato would be dead and that left only one thing for me to do. I would apologize to my mother, but like I said before I do what I know has to be done.

And I had to be the female tribute for District Two. And the knife that was hidden in my boot would prove it.

It all comes in a flash; St. Clair pulls out the envelope with the female tribute's name, and just as Aelia was about to present herself as the tribute, I take my knife and throw it, hitting the letter dead center on the red tape, and watching at as it hit the wall behind St. Clair. The whole square goes quiet, and St. Clair remains petrified in shock and fear, while Cato on the other hand had the biggest grin on his face. Aelia glances over to me as I push her out the way and made my way to the aisle, where all eyes were on me.

"You weren't about to read that letter, were you?" I say rather condescendingly, an innocent look on my face. "That would be a huge shame; I wouldn't want anyone to take my place in the games." St. Clair didn't respond, he merely nods and watch as I come up to the stage, a hand extended just for him. "Sorry for my rudeness," I turn and face the crowd, who's eyes still remains on me, giving them a wide grin just as Cato did. "My name is Clove Varius and I volunteer as tribute for District Two." And soon, the crowd goes wild once again. One side cheering Bloody Brutal Cato, the other going on about the girl with her knives, and the both of us stand proudly on stage as everyone, even our parents, give us wide grin. The only face I see sad was my mothers. But I did not care.

We decide to make our act a bit better, interlocking our hands and lifting it up into the air as St. Clair screams out our names once again, as the cheering goes on. After some of the joy has died down, Cato and I made our way into the justice building slowly, Cato's grin remaining on his face.  
"I really thought you weren't going to do this." He whispers to me as we walk with pride through the luxurious building.  
"_Dictum meum pactum,_ Cato."

"My word is my bond."

And I when I say I'll do something, I'll get it done.


End file.
